My Conditioning
by Athena Asamiya
Summary: Because for some reason, people love Sol-Frederick confrontations. Songfic done to "My Conditioning" by MOIST.


  
  
  
**TITLE:** My Conditioning  
**AUTHOR:** Athena Asamiya (empresskatzy@hotmail.com)  
**SERIES:** Guilty Gear  
**TYPE:** Part 1/1, Sol-Frederick semi-AU songfic.  
**RATING:** PG-13  
**WARNING:** Only a bit of harsh language here. All slashiness is most definitely in your head, since I certainly didn't PUT any in this time...O_o Sol x Frederick is fun, but highly difficult to pull off correctly.  
**SETTING:** Um...Sol's mind? Some AU-type place, because otherwise there'd be no way for them to talk face to face...  
**THEME:** "My Conditioning" by MOIST. (this fic's theme)  
**COMMENTS:** Too much MOIST music and too much reading Lynn Flewelling's _The Bone Doll's Twin_ late at night result in this. ^^;; Ah, gotta love that wacky Freudian concept of the superego and id. Man, with so many people completely believing my characterization of Frederick - it appears to be the only one to go by - I sure hope that when he's given an official personality, it's NOT totally and utterly different from this. ^^;; Because he could be, you know. This is all just creative licence on my part, making him a sweet, adorable science nerd. Maybe he's just Sol in a lab coat, I don't know. ^^;;;;; But the fact that none of us have any idea is where I get to have some fun. XD I know the song lyrics are only partially appropriate for the feel of this fic, but it's really the song itself that sounds perfect. XD Plus I was listening to it (good luck finding a copy though, as it's an unreleased demo song for their 1996 album _Creature_) when I came up with this idea for this, so it seemed only right. I may give almost all my fics the titles of songs, and yet I don't do enough songfics. I love songfics. If you don't or find them confusing, bite me. >D So go on, read, feel sorry for Freddie and angry at Sol for being such a meanie to the poor guy. ^_~ 

And to all you oh-so-wonderful people who keep on complaining about the fact that I write too many Sol and/or Sol x Ky fics, go fucking write some other character fics yourself, if you want to see them so badly. If YOU want to go ahead and spend the better portion of a year pumping out fanfics on characters of YOUR choice, then by all means go right ahead. I'm not here to take anyone's fanfic demands but my own. 

Sore de. ^_^ 

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-( GG )-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0- 

  
_ this hole burns in my mind  
this fire that i cannot deny  
i'll choke your words away  
and smile as you begin to fade _

my conditioning  
so say all of you  
mine or everything  
so say all of you to me

  
*********

  
    The silence was at first broken by the sound of heavy boots against the floor, moving steadily towards him as they had so many times before.     He didn't even have to look up from his papers when he heard the footsteps enter his room. There was only one other person who could get to this place, and surprisingly, he came almost frequently. He never said much when he came, usually just watching him move about in his common tasks of taking notes and recording observations, or reading the occasional book. And the other man would always only watch him, listening to the attempts at conversation he made and replying with a nod, a snarky word or not at all. But he would always, always watch him, with those cold, empty two-tone eyes.     Accusing him without words.     Blaming him with his angry silence.     He chose to overlook this. The twinge of shame he always felt at being subjected to that condemning behaviour had long since become numb to him. The other man almost had a right to act that way towards him.     This time, he had been only going over some past research notes when he was suddenly THERE, standing across from the room, leaning against the wall with arms crossed defiantly. And there it was against, that cold look. Those incriminating eyes. Even without turning around, he could feel that gaze burning into his soul. Damning him.     "It's good to see you again," he said casually, not looking up from the sheaf of papers he was ruffling through. He ignored the other man's stony silence, continuing on as he always did. He never spoke much to him. "It's been a while since last time, hasn't it? I was wondering if you'd return this time."     "Stop your bullshitting," the man finally growled, voice deep and low. "You know I could kill you if I wanted to. If I had the chance, I would."     He swung around in his chair with a bit of a sad smile, fixing his visitor at last with a somewhat piteous glance. "Well, you have your chance now, as you have already had many times in the past. You've had ample opportunity to kill me, as you seem to think you - ahem - would." One brown eyebrow raised as he straightened his glasses. "So then, why haven't you?"     The other man could seemingly come up with no answer for this. Or if he did, he certainly refrained from speaking it aloud. It seemed that there were things that even he did not want to admit, to himself or others.     He only nodded in return. "Forgive me for saying that I would have thought as much." He finally stood, falling quiet as he, too, stepped forward to acknowledge his strange yet expected visitor. And it was here that they met, face to face, so similar and yet so very different. Anyone who saw a passing comparison (if one was even possible) might have been tempted to think that they were brothers, and yet when one looked closer, the uncanny resemblance proved something much more complicated than that kind of simple relationship.     They were the same person, two facets of one being. 

  


********* 

  
_ your words to break me down  
now touch this bitterness you've found  
i'll choke your words away  
and smile as we begin to fade now _

my conditioning  
so say all of you  
mine or everything  
so say all of you to me

  
*********

  
    The physical differences were notable, of course -- one was smaller, less muscular, and younger, if not in appearance but in general aura. His short-cropped, dark brown hair fell in messy spikes over his face, as if he couldn't have been bothered to brush it. Its colour matched that of his soft, warm brown eyes, set behind a pair of studious glasses that were constantly askew. The stereotypical look was topped off with a pristine white lab coat over a dress shirt and tie, a small laminated nametag clipped to one lapel. True enough, he was the less threatening of the pair, diminutive in size and outward nature. He was the passive one; the scientist, the creating superego, Frederick.     The other man was the complete and utter opposite, both in appearance and personality. He was both larger and much more built than the scientist, muscular body clothed in a punk-like outfit of red leather vest and tight white jeans, everything accented with black belts and an oversized buckle at his waist that was carved with the simple word, and mantra, "FREE". His eyes were no longer that same brown; one was as crimson as blood and the other was a gold cat's eye, both of which held a hard, horribly jaded gaze that seemed far too old in a face still young -- a face that would stay young forever. He was the ferality and the rage; the half-demon, the destroying id, Sol Badguy.     The eyes, one set gentle and calm, the other set unsouled and insensitive, were the most predominant difference. The separation between human and monster.     The only solid connection that existed between the pair in the physical world was their combined ego, the body they both shared but Sol occupied. Although the case of the ego was typical among all beings, the superego and id generally had a more split, equal existence. Not so in this case. Due to a dangerous experiment carried out by Frederick in the early 21st century involving the crossing of human and animal DNA to create a 'Gear', the id had overrode the superego, and now one of them ruled while the other was left as some minor semblance of conscience. Proving that, at least in this case, the devil always won.     And now Frederick's personal demon was here with him again, the dark side of his mind that he had always knew existed, but never its form. Not surprisingly, its form was the same as his own, though a more violent, more menacing version. One couldn't only attribute their shared body to the fact that they were identical -- no, it was also symbolic in some matter of speaking. What is the id but a shadowed reflection of our own psyches?     Here, however, the id had a name. And an existence, along with a forever-painful awareness of the mistakes that had been made in bringing it to light.     Frederick fervently hoped that one day, he'd be able to apologize to Sol for that. But the ways things were looking now, Sol would rip his head off the instant he spoke one word of regret. He was still too volatile about the whole situation, even after a hundred years or so. Frederick suspected that he would be no less so in another hundred years, and with a short sigh he settled back in his chair, turning once more to his research. "What brings you here this time, Sol? Just come to call, or is there a purpose to your visit this time?"     The last words were said lightly, but Sol still appeared to take offense. The hulking immortal narrowed his eyes from his unmoved position against the wall, lips pulling back to reveal sharpened canines that glistened in a deep smirk. "I've always had a purpose, Freddie. I like to sense your fear at seeing me."     "Really? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I do not fear you," Frederick remarked blithely as he shuffled through his scribbled notes. It was the truth, he reflected. He no longer feared his id after coming to grips with him, even if Sol refused to acknowledge HIS existence. In all likeliness, Frederick was probably the only person who dared to stand up to the infamous bounty hunter without so much as a blink of an eye. "Rather, I would be tempted to believe that you fear me."     "I don't fear you so much as I'd like to tear your throat out," Sol growled quickly, fingers itching for the familiar feel of his sword's grip, or at least the sensation of the fire magic coursing through his veins. Both were stripped from him here, in the deepest reaches of his - and Frederick's - mind. He pushed himself off of the wall with the back of his foot, already twirling a cigarette into one hand and his lighter in the other. "After all, that's what my programmed purpose is, right? To hurt and kill?"     "What do you want with me, Sol?" Frederick asked almost casually, changing the subject without changing the countenance. He glanced up at the embodiment of his alter ego while straightening his glasses. "What is it that keeps you coming back here to talk to me?"     A low growl was the only response. Frederick tilted his head, noting that Sol was refusing to look at him. "Why do you come here?"     Sol remained silent for a long period of time. In actuality, he honestly had no idea what to say to that -- nothing that would sound completely impossible, or laughable, or pointless in itself. Frederick was waiting, and when Sol opened his mouth, he found that all he could say to his creator was the truth.     "...I want answers." 

  


********* 

  
_ still i burn  
and still i burn  
and still i burn  
my old machine is worn  
still i burn  
and still i burn  
and still i burn  
my old machine has won_

  
*********

  
    "A good response," Frederick said with a sage nod, "and a good reason. Well, I never did think you stupid..." -Sol raised an eyebrow in annoyance here- "so I wouldn't really have expected anything less." With that, he turned around in his chair, folding his hands in his lap and peering up at his alter ego through his glasses. "Then, what do you wish to know from me?"     Sol at first grumbled something that sounded like "What DON'T I want to know from you" before he stalked across the room, settling to lean against the wall with his back to Frederick. He rested his head against his clenched fists, trying to gather some semblance of thought. "........What am I?"     "That would be a rather basic question," Frederick remarked. "You DO already know what you are -- on the outside, that is. You are a Gear in an altered human's body. You are the result of the first Gear experiment, in all aspects a 'half-breed' of two species. You contain feral instincts and strength, heightened senses and an innumerably high pain threshold, all of top of a natural Gear talent of being able to summon 'magic'. And, of course, you are immortal." He leaned back in his chair, chewing on the end of his pen rather thoughtfully. "However, the most notable flaw is that your body is still human. You could be killed, should you ever meet your match someday. Unless you are killed first, you will never die, but there is always the possibility of an equal to worry about."     "I don't have an equal," Sol commented gruffly.     "Maybe not now. But you have many years ahead of you, and even if you don't see it, the human race is evolving as well. You'd be wise not to overestimate your abilities, as superior as they are at this point in time." Frederick continued with finality, "Unlike the mindless machines that came after you, and excepting the Undersn boy and the Chimera, you are more like an advanced human. You have a consciousness, and a conscience."     "Yeah. And I never asked for either."     The scientist smiled placidly, staring at some spot on the wall. "You'd rather be controlled?"     A wry smile, the first one in days for Sol, was his only answer. "I'm nobody's bitch, Freddie. You know that."     "...But to have a conscience, to be able to feel..." Frederick continued Sol's thoughts, "...to feel the impulse to destroy and the guilt that keeps you from it...it's torture, isn't it? That's what this is all about, am I correct?"     No answer but a piercing two-tone glare that spoke for itself.     Frederick watched his alter ego closely for a few moments, before sighing and removing his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "You blame me for all of this. For what's happened to you, and why you turned out the way you did -- half human, half Gear, unable to perform your proper duties without feeling emotion."     "You're damn right I blame you!" he spat angrily. "If it hadn't been for YOUR addiction to meddling with forces that shouldn't be fucked with, we wouldn't be like this! We wouldn't be-"     "Separated?"     There was no immediate response. And when Sol finally did growl the words with his back turned, they were a bit enigmatic in their own right. "...It makes it that much harder."     Frederick only nodded sympathetically. "Harder to live with this, I know. Don't think we're so completely different, Sol -- we are both part of one total being. I can understand - and to some lengths, sympathize - with what you're feeling." In one movement, he stood up to face Sol, though he was quite a few inches shorter. "No matter what happens, Sol, and no matter how much you DON'T want to hear this, we're in it together." Almost tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand on the shoulder of his creation. "I understand you, and who you are."     Silence again. Then three short words, punctuated with a barely-restrained rage. "Don't. Touch. Me."     Defeated, Frederick removed his hand.     Tension rang throughout the small room as the two stood, not facing each other and wordless. However, the words unspoken seemed to talk for themselves, whispering on the air and at the ears of whoever would listen.     _fault_     _i blame you_     _couldn't help_     _temptation_     _didn't want this_     _made a choice_     _forsaken_     _forgiven_     _......i won't forgive....._     Sol broke the silence.     "I know you."     Moving away from Frederick, he swiftly began pacing about the room like a caged tiger. "I know you, Frederick." The seething words were hissed. "I know the hidden reasons why you went ahead and let me take over. I know about that interesting little powerlust you always kept under the surface, and the insanity you nearly succumbed to so many times."     "Of course you would know of them. You are them," Frederick pointed out calmly. "What of it?"     Sol snickered coldly. "You deny too much, you pathetic bastard. You are nothing like you think you are. You don't know the half of what's going on. Always the smart one, eh? Not this time. You're so completely blind to your own vices." With these words, he paused and looked directly at the human scientist he once was, one eyebrow raised. "You may be the better half of us, Freddie, but you're as fucked in the head as I am. You've always known that. I've always known it."     "I do know it." Frederick's answer was nearly whispered.     "You do, huh? Then you also know the truth -- that there'll be no redemption for you. Tell me, Frederick, supposed saviour of the human race..." And here he leaned in, face so close to Frederick's own that they could share the same breath, see so clearly the resemblance that captured them both in each others' eyes.     "...What do you think can save you now?" 

  


********* 

  
_ my conditioning  
so say all of you  
mine or everything  
so say all of you to me_

  
*********

  
    "I don't expect to be saved," Frederick answered quietly. "I never expected that, Sol. I'm living, and observing. That's all there is for me to do now. My part in this is done."     "Yeah, well, it's your goddamn influence that's still playing a part," he snarled in return. "You left me with your guilt, Frederick. You left me with your guilt and your remorse and your emotions and YOUR HUMANITY to make me feel it all. You were a coward, dying and leaving me here with your mess. You escaped. You ran away. YOU left me here to deal with this fucking torture, this rotting hell of an eternal existence."     He sighed, looking away from the Gear. "I know. I know that...and I can't tell you how badly I feel about it. I didn't mean to escape, I just..."     "Didn't want to deal with the consequences?" Sol snorted derisively. "And you thought that I'd have an easier time with it? Cowardly little jackass. It was YOUR humanity that's been messing it all up. It's your fault everything's fucked up for me. It's your fault that I'm...that I'm-"     "...That you're not a true Gear?" The words were spoken so lightly, so calmly. Sol only glared back at his creator mutely, and Frederick sighed, standing up. "Sol, is that what you really want? To be rid of your conflicting human emotions? To be an emotionless killer, an empty slave, to not feel a single thing?"     Sol continued to glare until he finally muttered, "Part of me wants that."     "And that's your Gear side, yes." Frederick chanced a blow and took a step closer, earnestly staring into the eyes of his own dark side. "You want to kill without remorse, but something's always holding you back, making you feel regret and guilt for what you do. And do you know what that is, Sol? It's me. It's me trying to keep you sane...and human."     "...But I'm NOT human!" snarled Sol. "Why can't you just let me be what I am?"     The answer was simple. "Because while you may be a Gear...you're also me. And I won't let that part of me - of you - go."     Sol's response was even more simple, and more abrupt. "Let it go, Frederick. It's over."     As if struck across the face, Frederick turned away, wincing sharply. After yet another period of silence, he finally spoke again, not facing his alter ego. "I can't give you any more answers. But I can tell you that it's not over, and I won't let myself die under your control. We are and forever will exist as one, Sol, and we will conflict as long as you deny my existence and my essence." Removing his glasses again, in order to truly show the physical resemblance in their faces, Frederick stared Sol directly in the face. "This is a fight you can stop. Will you stop it?"     There was no answer from the bounty hunter right away. Instead, they stared each other down, identical visages and a bound determination the only things left that they still shared. Frederick's eyes were imploring. Sol's eyes were hard.     _-unforgiven-_     "You are dead to me."     With that, Sol brushed Frederick aside carelessly and moved to the door. He had laid only one gloved hand on it when Frederick said his name once, voice barely audible. The Gear glanced over his shoulder, just enough to see the pain and anguish in the human's eyes, the eyes that were too much like his own. He remembered that pain, and speaking in that young mortal voice that seemed so torn.     "_Please._"     The plea went unheard.     The door closed and the dream ended, leaving both of them together but still so far apart. 

  


*********   
  
_ and still i burn  
and still i burn  
and still i burn  
my old machine has worn  
my hope away  
my hope away  
my hope away  
away_

  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-( GG )-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0- 

  
  
Guilty Gear songfiction "My Conditioning" © Athena Asamiya, 2002. 

Use in whole or in part of this fanfiction without permission is prohibited. If you wish to use this fanfiction for any purpose, please obtain permission prior to doing so. 

empresskatzy@hotmail.com 

Guilty Gear, Sol Badguy and Frederick copyright 1998-2002 Sammy Co., Arc System Works Co., Team Neo Blood, and Atlus. 

"My Conditioning" and its lyrics are copyright 1996 of MOIST (D. Usher, M. Makoway, J. Pearce, K. Young, P. Wilcox). From the album _MOIST Fanclub CD 2_. 

  
  
but i always knew you're my destroyer . . . . . .  
~ heaven.coming.down :: http://heaven.morethanart.org ~ 


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